


Alternum Arcanum: Prompto’s “Other Secret”

by yallneedtrashjesus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yallneedtrashjesus/pseuds/yallneedtrashjesus
Summary: Told from Prompto’s POV and set during the Brotherhood era (post high school), this was inspired by how unconcerned Prompto appears to be about Ardyn throughout the game compared to the other bros. I wondered: What if Prompto had met Ardyn before? What would cause him to keep that fact a secret? It’s also an exploration of the bros’ life before the road trip.





	Alternum Arcanum: Prompto’s “Other Secret”

Although he’s been here countless times, Prompto’s insides still clench every time he steps up to the apartment building. The guards only half-disguised as doormen smile when he approaches, as they’ve seen him leave with the Crown Prince at least half as many times as he’s come. Yet Prompto can’t help but feel wary. Unconsciously he adjusts the wristband on his right wrist as he walks through the door held open for him.

Inside, he heads for the elevators at the back of the lobby. There are two on the right and two directly opposite. The single elevator at the very back travels only to and from the four-story, underground garage; he’s used it a few times coming here with Ignis.

He approaches the first elevator on the right and holds up his keycard. A light blinks green and the doors slide open. They shut quickly once he’s inside—too quickly, as they always do. Thanks to the chip inside the keycard that tells the elevator he’s heading to Noct’s apartment, one with the highest level of security, no one can stop the elevator before he’s arrived at the fifteenth floor.

Noct’s apartment isn’t on the highest floor in the building because that’s where you’d imagine the apartment to be. But the entire floor is vacant surrounding his apartment, and so are the apartments directly above and below. It means that Noct is not only safe but also that he can play video games or blast music pretty much as loudly as he wants. Not that he couldn’t anyway, being the Crown Prince (who would lodge a complaint?). Noct is conscientious, though, and despite the empty rooms above and below him rarely raises the volume of his epic sound system to a level that can be heard in the hall outside.

Unless Prompto is over to remind him not to waste such an expensive sound system.

The elevator slows and stops. The doors slide open, revealing the long hallway that turns a corner before bringing him to Noct’s place.

It’s sparsely decorated, with gray wallpaper that’s shot with black and dim sconces lining the halls. Every five feet or so, tall, leafy plants rest along the base of the walls. Prompto guesses Ignis must water them—Noct probably hasn’t even noticed they’re there, and if he has, hasn’t thought that they need to be watered.

Since Noct has a spare bedroom he hardly uses, something Gladio enjoys teasing him about, Prompto often crashes here. He’s been spending so much time here since they graduated last month that they’re basically roommates. He keeps a toothbrush and a spare change of clothes, and with Ignis around nearly as much to feed them both, he literally has no reason to go home.

Sometimes he worries about what will happen when Noct becomes king. He knows it’s stupid; knows that things will have to change at some point and that there’s no point worrying about it now. But Noct is his best friend. The only person he really talks to, about anything. He doesn’t know what he’d do without Noct.

He reaches the door to Noct’s apartment and knocks. Footsteps sound behind the door. The door swings open.

“Hey, bud— Oh hey, Iggy.”

Ignis smirks as he moves to invite Prompto inside. “Hello, Prompto. Did you purposely arrive just before lunch?”

Noct, sitting at the counter, spins on his barstool to face him and smiles in greeting.

Prompto smiles at both of them. “No, but are you making something?”

“Noct tells me you’re going out for pizza.”

“Are we?”

“Or whatever,” says Noct, unconsciously smoothing his hair, which is a mess. “But pizza’s close to the arcade.”

“Are either of you ever going to grow up?” Ignis asks. He’s joking, mostly, though lately he’s been making a point of asking Prompto what he intends to do with his life. He’s also been encouraging Noct to move back to the Citadel as the King has requested.

Prompto really hopes Noct doesn’t move back there anytime soon since visiting him would become awkward.

“Sorry, Iggy—you’re going to be babysitting us forever.” Noct whips a coaster at him.

Ignis picks the coaster from the air and groans. “My worst fear.”

_Damn, can’t believe he caught that._

“Sure you don’t want to come, Ignis?” Noct asks. “Might be good for you—unleash all that rage.”

“I do that at the gym,” says Ignis. “A place you should visit more often.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I believe my meaning is quite clear,” Ignis retorts.

“Gladio’s been telling you, hasn’t he?”

“That you’ve been missing practice? Yes.” He smirks, and Prompto knows that Ignis is about to say something teasing. “Even Prompto’s been going.”

Prompto’s stomach drops. _No no no…._

Noct’s eyes widen, and they dart from Ignis to Prompto.

“ _What_?” Noct looks betrayed.

Ignis holds Prompto’s gaze, and his expression seems to say, _It’s nothing to be ashamed of…quite the contrary._

“Since when?” Noct demands.

“Three weeks ago,” Prompto confesses. “But—but mostly I’ve been at the shooting range.”

“The Citadel range?”

Prompto nods.

“He’s a natural,” Ignis adds. “Who knew?”

Heat creeps up Prompto’s neck and face. It’s the second time he can recall Ignis ever complimenting him, half-assed as it was.

Noct laughs. “Ohho, I have to see this.”

Now it’s Prompto’s turn to smile. “Only if you shoot, too.”

There are so few things he’s good at, and even fewer that he’s better at than Noct. Although Noct rarely brags, it’s difficult to be in Noct’s shadow. Not that Prompto would trade that spot for anything in Eos.

“Deal,” says Noct.

One of Noct’s favorite arcade games is a virtual shooter. Prompto could tell Noct that it’s nothing like the real thing, as he’s sure that’s where Noct’s confidence comes from, but he’d rather see the look on his face when he realizes it himself.

Noct turns to Ignis. “You in, Specs?”

Ignis smiles. “Definitely. I’ve been practicing, also.”

In fact, Ignis has gone with Prompto six of the eight times he’s been to the range since Prompto’s civilian status requires that he have an escort.

Noct keeps bugging Prompto to meet his father, to have him officially recognized at the Citadel and a pass made for him, but Prompto doesn’t want anyone prodding into his background. He’s as afraid of someone discovering the truth behind his origins as he is about learning the truth himself.

He’s fine with being Noct’s shadow.

“Arcade?”

Prompto doesn’t hear him. “What?” he asks, realizing Noct’s staring.

“Arcade?” Noct asks.

“Yeah.”

“Text us if you want to meet up for pizza,” Noct tells Ignis.

Ignis nods. “I’ll follow you out. I’ve some errands.”

Prompto leads the way to the elevator, Ignis bringing up the rear.

“Hey, Ignis.”

“Mmm?”

“Know anywhere that’s hiring?” Prompto asks.

“Tired of mooching off His Majesty and His Highness at last?”

Prompto remains silent at the quip.

“That sushi restaurant you two frequent had a help wanted sign in the window last time I walked past,” Ignis replies.

Noct laughs. “Prompto? Make sushi?”

“Hey, I could make sushi!”

Ignis scoffs. “When was the last time either of you made anything other than Cup Noodles, cereal, or a mess?”

“Maybe they just need waiters or kitchen help or something,” says Prompto. “Working there wouldn’t be bad.”

After all, he’s been going there since he was a kid. The owners even give him a free roll every time he goes in. They know Noct, too, and unlike 99.9% of other people, they actually respect his wish to be treated like a regular customer. It’s possible, Prompto knows, that they actually don’t care that Noct is the Crown Prince at all. So long as their food and service is good for all their customers, they’ve nothing to worry about.

“Maybe I could work there, too,” says Noct.

Now Ignis laughs aloud, a single bark that escapes him despite himself. “You? Do customer service? Or anything related to food preparation? You know, you might actually have to touch carrots. I could envision Prompto working there, but you…?”

“Oh yeah?”

Prompto holds his key card up to the elevator panel. The doors slide open and he heads to the right side, pushing the buttons for the lobby and garage as Ignis takes the left side and Noct stands between them.

“Noct, _I_ _’ll_ pay _you_ if you can manage to get hired there and remain employed for longer than a week,” Ignis challenges.

“Ohhhh you’re on,” says Noct.

“You’re our witness, Prompto,” says Ignis. “I’ll gladly uphold my end of the bargain if Noct can deliver.”

Prompto shoves Noct with one arm. “My money’s on you, buddy. Then you can hook me up.”

Noct swats his hand away while regaining his balance. “You already get free food there.”

“Sake shots?”

Noct rolls his eyes. “Do you _want_ me to lose the bet?”

“Yes,” Ignis chimes.

Prompto leans against the elevator wall. “Speaking of sake shots…are we meeting back here later?”

Noct looks to Ignis, who returns his gaze.

“It’s Gladio’s turn to provide the refreshments,” says Ignis. “He informed me that he has other plans tonight, but he’ll stop by here beforehand.”

“Damn, is that guy ever _not_ getting laid?” says Prompto.

Ignis smirks but quickly hides his amusement with a hand over his mouth. Noct appears to be stifling a laugh.

“What?”

“He’s taking Iris out. Just a brother sister thing,” says Noct.

Prompto laughs. “Oh man—my bad!”

Noct and Ignis chuckle. The elevator slows to a stop.

“Later,” Noct says to Ignis, and steps into the lobby.

“Bye, Iggy!”

Ignis waves a hand as Prompto follows Noct and the doors slide closed behind them.

Outside, the sunlight assaults their eyes.

“I wonder what it’s like having a sibling,” Prompto muses.

“Dunno.” Noct shoves his hands into his pockets, his usual routine in public.

“Ever wish you had an older brother?” Prompto asks.

“I used to,” says Noct.

“Why, so he could be king instead?”

Noct doesn’t reply, but Prompto is sure he’s struck the mark.

“Do you think your biological parents are alive?” Noct asks. “That maybe they’re out there somewhere and have their own family?”

He and Noct play this game quite often—casually asking deep questions about the other, not caring whether the other actually answers. Sometimes both do, sometimes one does, and sometimes neither does.

Prompto takes a moment to respond. “I’ve never really thought about it. I barely know the parents I _do_ have.”

“Mmmm.”

Prompto wonders all the time where he came from. He realized at a young age that he didn’t look like his parents. As he got older, he wondered if they were rarely at home so as to avoid the questions accumulating inside him. He wondered, too, at the barcode tattooed on his wrist. Who tattooed babies?

Does he even _have_ parents? He’s seen enough sci-fi movies to become paranoid about what a barcode could mean.

When he’d finally asked his parents about his origins, they’d told him that they didn’t know where he’d come from; didn’t know the meaning behind the tattoo.

But he doesn’t look or _feel_ like a Lucian.

He keeps the tattoo hidden from everyone—even Noct. He keeps the bracelet on at all times: in the shower, in the pool, at the gym…. No one has ever asked him why he wears it. He’s worn it so long that it’s as much a part of him as the tattoo.

“Prom?”

Prompto stops when he realizes Noct has stopped half a foot behind him. He spins to face his friend.

Noct still has his hands in his pockets, but he’s looking at Prompto strangely.

“Have you ever wanted to run away?”

“You mean like leave Insomnia?” Prompto asks.

Noct turns his head and looks towards his left. He nods once.

“Yeah,” Prompto answers. “When I was a kid.”

Noct snaps his gaze back to Prompto. “Not any more?”

Prompto grabs the back of his head. _Mannnnn this is going to sound so fucking lame._

“Well, no. Because you’re here. And Ignis, and Gladio.”

Noct visibly loosens, one hand coming from his pocket and his mouth making a tiny, surprised “o.” Then that familiar, toothless grin appears. He looks away and resumes walking.

“Well, suppose I left,” Noct continues. “Would you come with me?”

“Uh, yeah!” Prompto answers. “I’ve always wanted to see what’s outside the Wall.”

“Me too.”

“Why this, all of the sudden? Is your dad okay?” Prompto asks.

“He’s fine,” Noct answers a bit tersely. “Really it’s more Ignis than my dad. But they’ve both been bugging me to move back to the Citadel. Or take some classes. Figure out what I’m going to do with my life. You know, until….”

“Well, _have_ you thought about it? I’ve been thinking of going to college. Maybe studying photography, or…veterinary? If I don’t get a degree, I’m not sure what kind of living I’ll have.”

They reach a crosswalk. Prompto notices some girls across the way, giggling and whispering to each other. As they cross, they stare at Noct…and him.

As usual, Noct ignores them. Prompto has learned to play it cool, too, but inwardly he aches for the attention. If he goes to college, he’ll meet girls, right?

“Actually, I _have_ been thinking about it,” Noct suprises him.

“Yeah? What’ll you study?”

“Criminal justice, probably. Animation would be cool, though.”

Prompto smiles. “You just want to draw comics, nerd.”

Noct punches his arm. “You know you’d read them. Or at least, you’d better.”

Prompto laughs. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

Prompto slips into the arcade behind Noct, who heads immediately to the back left wall where his precious shooter machine resides. It’s crowded as usual for a Friday afternoon, a solid mixture of adolescents who’ve skipped class or ended the day early and the college crowd.

Neon beams cut across the darkened arcade, painting bright green and blue stripes across their skin and hair. Prompto can barely hear himself think over the collective sounds of the games and people’s excited banter.

_It’s like a warzone_.

And to Noct, it is.

It’s a few minutes before the machine becomes free and Noct all but jams the coins into the slot. “Sure you don’t want to play?”

“I’m good,” Prompto replies.

Noct draws the gun from its plastic holster and takes aim.

Prompto watches for a while before his thoughts start to wander back to the Citadel Range. Just two days ago he’d had Gladio’s attention. Had earned a rough shove and a “Not bad, Prompto” from Noct’s tattooed Shield-to-be. He smiles at the thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, Prompto sees someone who looks a hell of a lot like Ignis. _Has_ to be Ignis. Jeans, dress shirt, spikey hair—Who else comes to the arcade in a shirt that requires ironing?

He swats Noct, who grunts, “What?”

“I just saw Ignis!”

“What?” Noct shouts over the electronic cries and gunfire.

“Iggy!” Prompto shouts back, trying to follow the spikey hair through the crowd with his eyes.

But Noct either doesn’t understand him or is too focused on the game to stop shooting. Prompto dashes after Ignis, pushing through a crowd of people in the dimly lit arcade.

Whenever he gets close to Ignis, someone gets in his way and he loses sight of him. He continues forward, past the snack counter, towards the back exit.

Under the pink neon “exit” sign, he sees Ignis open the door to the outside and slip through.

Prompto rushes after him, catching the door with the side of his arm just as it’s closing.

Outside, he looks around the alley. He sees a vague form disappear behind the corner of the building to his right.

“Ignis?” he calls, taking a few steps in that direction.

“Not quite,” a voice sounds behind him.

Before Prompto can turn around, he’s struck across the back of his head.

\+ + +

Prompto finds himself waking, but it’s dark when he opens his eyes. Then he registers the soft cloth around his eyes. He tries to remove it, but his hands are bound behind him. He’s sitting against something hard and bumpy. He tries to move his torso, but he’s tied to whatever his back is against.

He can hear wind, the rustling of leaves. Birds.

He’s outside. God, all the murders he’s seen on TV happened in the woods. He struggles against his restraints.

“Oh, good—I was beginning to worry I’d hit you too hard.”

The voice is deep and masculine, but amused, almost melodic. Everything about it sets warnings off in Prompto’s mind.

The man is very near—a foot away, maybe two.

He can’t begin to fathom why someone would abduct him. Abducting Noct would make sense. But he’s only Noct’s friend; doubts anyone knows him as more than that or “the guy the Prince is always hanging around with.”

It’s probably best to say nothing. Whatever the man wants, he’s sure to ask for or demand it. Maybe it’s one of Gladio’s friends—some kind of Crownsguard initiation or prank.

“That’s an interesting tattoo on your wrist. Is that what’s all the rage these days? Barcodes?”

Prompto tries his best to swallow his surprise and his fear. It’s then he realizes that his wrist is bare. Naked. _My bracelet!_ Why would the man do that?

Prompto remains silent. Leaves crunch and snap to his right.

The sound grows closer. Prompto’s heart pounds in his ears.

“It’s awfully strange, getting a tattoo at your age and not showing it off. It’s almost as if you’re ashamed of it.”

Prompto can’t stop the gasp from escaping as the man’s breath touches his neck.

The man laughs. It’s a merciless laugh—the man is clearly enjoying his fear.

“Would it surprise you to know that a great many others have a tattoo like yours? Not here in Lucis, of course, but in Niflheim.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Prompto demands despite the fear coiled in his stomach.

“Haven’t you ever wondered what it means? Why you feel so different? So alone?”

“No,” Prompto says quickly. “I have parents. I know they’re not my real parents, but it doesn’t matter. I’m happy.”

The man grabs his chin. “Don’t _lie_ to me, Prompto. It won’t end well for you if you do.”

Prompto can feel the tears building behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut, not wanting the man to have the satisfaction of his fear. The man _knows_ him. Knows him in a way that frightens him.

His captor releases his grip, and Prompto’s head falls.

“May I tell you a story?” the man asks.

Prompto says nothing, focusing on keeping the tears at bay.

“Seventeen years ago, a subject went missing from a research facility in Niflheim. He was but a babe, unremarkable save for the code imprinted on his wrist.”

_Research facility? Like a laboratory?_

“Scientists and soldiers alike searched for the child, but he seemed to have vanished into thin air as if by magic. He was eventually replaced, but they still wonder and worry after the child who was spirited away. The _loose end_.

“He was so fortunate that someone swept him away before the transformation process began. Of all the thousands of children in that facility, he alone was spared. Someone brought him all the way across the sea to an opposing empire, hoping that he would be safe there.”

“You’re lying,” Prompto whimpers.

“Why would I lie?”

“To scare me.”

“ _Are_ you scared?”

“Yes,” Prompto admits. The voice terrifies him more than the story it’s told him. It is poison personified: Cajoling and callous, suave and merciless. It invites trust while veiling violence.

“Good…that’s a smart lad.”

The man is still within a few feet of him.

“Someone took you from your true home—Niflheim, Prompto, so that you could be raised in a common Lucian household. As fate would have it, you just so happened to attend the same schools as the Crown Prince of Lucis. Who _could_ have foreseen it? Certainly not I.

“What do you imagine would happen if he discovered where you came from?”

Prompto barely breathes, but the scenario plays through his head all the same as it has a hundred times before—except now it could actually happen. It’s his greatest fear: Noct discovering his tattoo and bringing him to the Citadel as a traitor to the kingdom. Ignis and Gladio disgusted at him and at themselves for not realizing it sooner. The betrayal and hatred in Noct’s eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” says the man. “You’re going to tell me some things about dear Noctis, and then I’ll let you go. If you ever tell anyone about our meeting here today, rest assured you will be returned to your proper home—but not before your secret becomes known to your friends.”

“Are you going to hurt him?” Prompto asks. He’s more worried about Noct than himself. After all, Noct isn’t just his friend; he’s the future king. And Prompto would have nothing without Noct. Would _be_ nothing.

“No,” the man replied. “Some others will be hurt, but not him. So long as you tell me what I need to know. A fair trade, I’d say.”

His blood pounded in his ears. Other people? Like Ignis or Gladio, or his parents? The King? Did he have any chance at saving those the man planned to harm?

“Are they people I know?”

The voice is cruelly amused. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I swear no harm will come to your closest companions so long as you answer my questions.”

Prompto can’t see a way out of this situation. No matter what the man asks, Noct’s life is more important—more important than his, or Ignis’, or Gladio’s, his parents’…even the King’s. Even if the information is later used against Noct, at least they’d have time.

And maybe Prompto will have the chance to warn Noct. How could the man ever know if Prompto tells Noct? He hasn’t seen the man, doesn’t know his name. However, depending on the questions, Prompto might not be able or willing to tell Noct.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Now…please answer my questions, regardless how strange or…how should I say? random they might seem. Consider your answers before sharing them with me. And do try to be detailed—I’ll know if you’re not being honest, or if you’re holding something back. Remember what’s at stake.”

Prompto swallows and nods.

“How did you end up befriending the Crown Prince? And how long ago?”

_No. No, no, no._

This is private. Personal. Even Noct doesn’t know. How much can he hold back? Why does it matter how they’d become friends?

“We’ve known each other since elementary school,” Prompto begins. “We…we didn’t talk then. Being his friend didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Why?”

“He was royalty. There were plenty of other kids trying to get his attention, trying to be his friend or whatever. He didn’t seem interested in anyone, anyways. And I was shy. Kept to myself.”

“So what prompted the friendship?”

Was that a pun on his name, or…?

“Lady Lunafreya,” Prompto answers evenly. “The Princess of Tenebrae. I found her dog near my house one day, injured, and nursed it back to health. Then it left. Made it back to her, somehow. Lady Luna sent me a letter. She thought Noct and I were friends…or should be. It gave me a purpose: to make myself worthy of his friendship.”

“‘Worthy’? How do you mean?”

“I—I was fat. Shy. Nobody. He called me heavy one day. Not to be mean, but…I realized then how different we were. So I changed.

“When we started high school, I introduced myself. He didn’t have any friends, either—just Ignis and Gladio, but they were older, and didn’t go to our school. And that was that.”

“Interesting. Do the Crown Prince and Lady Lunafreya talk?”

“They have a notebook. They send it back and forth. I don’t know what they say in it, but they’ve written each other since they met ten years ago.”

“Alright. Now, I’m sure there are all sorts of protocols about this, but does the Crown Prince have a girlfriend? Or has there been any discussion of an arranged marriage?”

“No. I mean, lots of girls have offered, and he could have any of them, but—”

“But?”

Noct had always given him the whole ‘I can’t because I’m Royal,’ spiel when he asked, but Prompto had long suspected that Noct fancied—perhaps even _loved—_ Lady Lunafreya.

“I think he likes Lady Luna. He just won’t admit it.”

“Interesting. Alright, one final question. This may be difficult to answer, Prompto, but I want you to think long and hard before you answer.

“Is the Prince ready to be King? I don’t mean today, or tomorrow. I mean when the time comes, will he be ready to take his father’s place? Does he understand the sacrifices one must make to be king?

“What I’m asking, Prompto, is this: Do you believe Noctis has the qualities of a king?”

As the man had instructed, Prompto thinks hard on how he’ll reply. If the stranger is from the Empire, he could well be assessing the future threat Noct could pose. If Prompto paints him as weak, on the other hand, the Empire could strike while Noct is young or an inexperienced king. After all, the King is getting older. Noct rarely talks about it, but he worries about his father’s health—his failing powers.

“Yes.” That’s all he needs or wants to say.

“Thank you for being so candid, Prompto. It makes things so much easier, for everyone. Since you’ve upheld your end of the bargain, I’ll uphold mine.”

He steps around the tree Prompto is bound to, and Prompto hears rather than feels the restraints around his wrists and chest being cut. He quickly rises to his feet and tears the blindfold from his eyes, but even with the light blinding him, he can tell that his captor is gone. It isn’t possible, and yet there’s no sign of him. Just as there’d been no sign of him before.

As he’s searching, though, he finds his bracelet on the ground near the tree where he was tied. He bends down to pick it up, and falls forward onto both hands. Suddenly the thing that’s been a part of him for so long feels wrong.  

_Is it true, then? Am I from some lab in Niflheim? Is that why I feel so different?_

The tears sting again, but he fights them. The words play through his mind again: _He was so fortunate that someone swept him away before the transformation process began. Of all the thousands of children in that facility, he alone was spared._

_What transformation? What was I spared from?_

He shakes his head to stop the thoughts. _It doesn’t matter! I’m here—I’m me. Whatever weird shit I was tattooed for didn’t happen._ He slides the bracelet back over his wrist, noting how much lighter the skin is there.

But the thought persists like a bitter aftertaste: Who were his parents? Did he have them?

_Of course you have parents, dumbshit. They can’t reproduce people in labs. Animals, maybe, but not people. You were probably taken from your family after your mom gave birth to you. Seems like something a crazy empire would do._

Prompto groans. All he needs to care about is Noct. Keeping him safe.

Prompto tries to get his bearings. The light continues burning his eyes, even filtered through the trees. It isn’t long before he recognizes the general area. He’s in the woods outside the Citadel—where he and Noct had sometimes met to smoke weed. Where Ignis has occasionally joined them as well, though normally to watch over them and amuse himself at their expense.

How the hell did he get here? The man couldn’t have carried him like a sack of potatoes all the way from the arcade, yet there are no tire tracks. No tracks of any kind.

He checks his phone. Two missed calls from Noct, and five texts. Three from Noct, and two from Ignis.

From Noct:

_Where r u_

_Heading to pizza place_

_Are you okay?_

From Ignis:

_Is everything alright? Noct is looking for you._

Just over two hours have passed, and already his friends are panicked. Would they be more pissed or relieved when he returned to them, unscathed, as if nothing had happened?

Nothing _had_ happened.

He texts Noct. _Sorry, had to run home. See you back at your place?_

Noct must have been waiting near his phone, or been holding it, because he responds within seconds.

_Asshole! Text me next time. Ignis and I heading to pizza. Meet us there?_

Prompto texts back: _There in ten._

He emerges from the woods onto a street a few blocks from downtown, near the Citadel. The Palace looms to his right, the light reflecting off its top like a beacon—which it is.

Prompto crosses the street. As soon as he does, his skin crawls. He feels eyes on his back. The same sensation as when his captor had been watching him. He slowly turns around.

Directly across the street, standing where Prompto had stood only moments before, is a man. A man with red-violet hair, his dark gray robes—or was it a jacket? fluttering lightly in the breeze. The man smiles, and even at that distance, the hairs on Prompto’s arms raise.

_We’ll meet again,_ the familiar, carnal voice promises in his head. _And when we do, it will be as strangers. I keep my promises._

Prompto looks around to see if anyone else heard the man, or sees him staring at him—but no one appears to. And when he looks back, the man has vanished.

As much as he wants to believe that none of it is real, that none of it has happened, Prompto knows it is and has. Knows that the threat—the promise of violence is real, and that he’ll have to keep his part of the bargain: never mention the man or this fucked up…whatever. Anyways, what’s one more secret atop the giant one he already conceals from his friends?

He turns left, eager to return to them.

Perhaps someday he’ll tell. Or Noct at least, anyway. Perhaps in the future, when Noct is king.

He smiles because that day is far away.

When he enters the pizza place roughly ten minutes later, Noct waves at him from a booth near the back. Ignis is sitting across from him.

Prompto slides in next to Noct, and Noct punches his upper arm.

“Thanks for bailing on me.”

“Owww! I said sorry,” Prompto whines.

“Everything alright with your parents?” Ignis asks. His feline green eyes always feel scrutinizing.

“Yeah, all good. So did you guys order already?”

“The usual,” Noct answers.

“Awww yeah.”

 

 


End file.
